


not that proud

by revoleotion



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sleep Deprivation, makeout session in the kitchen, no beta we die like fallen angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revoleotion/pseuds/revoleotion
Summary: “... What,” Lucifer asks, except that his voice doesn’t make the effort to form this into a question. He blinks again.“I’m just saying, fuck the system, Lucifer. Take a nap.”The confusion in the man’s face is adorable. He sits down on the bench in the corner, not the seat he usually takes because the bench is a constant battle of dominance that he doesn’t have time for. He’s proud enough to claim it in the night though, the almost-morning, when there are no rules yet.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	not that proud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGoldenGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenGirl/gifts).



> quick warning that I was not sure how to tag: brief hints at an eating disorder (nothing graphic, I promise!)  
> That should be it. Enjoy reading!
> 
> Another thing I noticed that now makes me cry myself to sleep at night: Apparently the entire "brothers" thing in the game is a lot more serious than I thought. All characters, except perhaps Belphie and Beel are roommates in this one-shot. I never meant to write accidental incest but if it makes someone uncomfortable, I will delete this fanfiction immediately. Thanks!

“When you said it was going to be late, I didn’t expect it to be the time I usually wake up,” Asmodeus says. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter, simply because he’s not allowed to do this during daylight. But it’s not quite daylight yet, it’s still the magic time where his actions don’t count that much, when darkness still lingers in the cold air and when the weight of the universe feels bearable. 

“Hm?” Lucifer makes and stops to squint at what Asmodeus assumes is a very graceful view to look at. He looks tired. Scratch that, this is beyond tired. Exhausted. Exhausted enough to take a couple of seconds to be fully aware of the situation. 

“You are sitting on the counter,” he finally says. Asmodeus decides to be comforted by the fact that his mind isn’t shattered enough to forget about his principle. And it’s always a matter of principle with Lucifer. 

“I am. Are you going to do something about it?” Asmodeus asks. 

“I need to think about it.”

Lucifer frowns and runs a hand through his hair. He’s still so handsome, the attraction towards him burns somewhere in Asmodeus’ stomach (and a little lower, too). He understands that he can’t just take whatever he wants but part of him wants to drag Lucifer into a dark room and watch “Call me by your name”, just to see his reaction to the colors. That’s what matters about the movie, the colors. The feeling, the longing. It’s the same longing Asmodeus feels, and it has the same impossibility to it. This isn’t his, Lucifer isn’t his. 

“You said something earlier…” Lucifer starts and blinks a few times. “What time is it?”

“Must be five by now,” Asmodeus replies. “Did you two have fun?”

Something that could be a smile crosses Lucifer’s lips and he puts up his hand to hide it immediately. He clears his throat and shakes his head ever so slightly. 

“Just a meeting… Five, you say?”

“That’s what the government wants you to think. If we all agree that we’re somewhere else, say… Europe? You still have plenty of time to sleep,” Asmodeus says because he can guess where Lucifer’s thought process is going. Five in the morning isn’t enough for anything, not if you expect yourself to be at work at seven. Eight, if he allows himself to eat with the other roommates. 

“... What,” Lucifer asks, except that his voice doesn’t make the effort to form this into a question. He blinks again.

“I’m just saying, fuck the system, Lucifer. Take a nap.”

The confusion in the man’s face is adorable. He sits down on the bench in the corner, not the seat he usually takes because the bench is a constant battle of dominance that he doesn’t have time for. He’s proud enough to claim it in the night though, the almost-morning, when there are no rules yet. 

“Get off the counter, Asmo,” he says quietly. 

It hurts, the name. Asmodeus has tried to explain the others that his name is too beautiful to be butchered like that. He has the feeling that Lucifer understood his point very well and now makes a point of not using his name on purpose, just because Asmodeus called Diavolo “Mr. Steak Sauce” _one time_. Diavolo even laughed about it. He had a nice, booming laugh, a little bit too loud and a little bit too uncontrolled. But that way Asmodeus had known that it was genuine. 

Diavolo likes to laugh. He likes to relax. It’s almost a shame that Lucifer didn’t find it funny. When it happened, his face turned even paler than it usually is, he turned to Asmodeus and hissed, “Apologize, now”. It didn’t even matter what Diavolo said. When it comes to protecting the man’s honor, Lucifer is the first one to unleash hell. 

Asmodeus jumps off the counter and walks over to the table as well. Lucifer raises an eyebrow when he sits down next to him but doesn’t complain about boundaries. Asmodeus has long figured out that Lucifer does not hate physical contact. Not like Levi does. (But Levi is _different_ , Asmodeus reminds himself, not in a bad way, just in a way he needs to learn about. When Levi moves differently or dumps information onto them or refuses to look them in the eye, it’s not because he’s being annoying.)

“What have you been doing in here?” Lucifer asks after a while. He's lingering centimeters away from Asmodeus' shoulder, close to giving in and leaning onto him. Asmodeus can feel his desire, no not desire, a simple wish to be less proud, less stubborn. 

“Oh, you know,” Asmodeus mutters. “I don't eat with the others anymore.” 

“I hadn't noticed.” 

Of course not, if Asmodeus had wanted Lucifer, perfect Lucifer, to notice, he wouldn't have kept it a secret. Maybe Lucifer sees his thoughts on his face, or he just senses that this is a difficult topic, either way he doesn't push it. 

“If I look at myself too much,” Asmodeus starts, pushes away the feeling of nausea and speaks right through it, “It's getting difficult to join them.”

Lucifer nods, his face unreadable. After a few seconds of silence, he rests his head on Asmodeus' shoulder and puts an arm around his waist. 

Asmodeus holds his breath, then smiles and breathes out slowly. 

“I should open up more often if this is the reward I get,” he says. 

“Oh, you want praise for that?” Lucifer asks. “Very well, good job.” 

His face is on fire. This goes beyond being praised for being beautiful, and it's the only praise Asmodeus can handle. It's unfair, so unfair, that Lucifer gives him this with no bad intentions, with no romantic intentions either. 

“Would it be alright if we ate together? I didn't have time for dinner yesterday and-” 

Lucifer flinches when Asmodeus lets out a squeal and nods excitedly. Bad emotions, what's that? Lucifer practically invited him to a date. 

“I'd need to take a shower first. Is that alright?” 

Asmodeus doesn't fail to notice that this is a very gentle approach, especially for Lucifer. He may not know how to handle everything yet but he's trying. 

“Will you be okay?” Asmodeus asks. “Keep the door unlocked.” 

Lucifer lifts his head and gives him a deadly glare. 

“I like the way you think but I won't join you, don't worry. I already showered, bad for my skin.” 

“So, you're just going to spy on me, then?” 

Okay, fair. This is what his roommates expect of Asmodeus. It still hurts. He sighs quietly. 

“No, Lucifer, we all agreed that we keep the door unlocked, just in case someone slips and falls in the shower.”

“I don't remember agreeing to this.” 

“Either way, you're outvoted. Keep it unlocked.” 

Asmodeus gets up to let Lucifer out of the corner. He slides down the bench but when he stands up, he immediately falls back. 

“Lucifer?” Asmodeus asks. 

“It's nothing. Please, move out of the way.” 

He wants to ask, “Is it nothing if it happened to me? Would you just watch me falling apart like that? Are you really that much of an idiot, Lucifer?”. He wants to give Lucifer one of his own famous glares. He doesn't. He follows the order and watches Lucifer walk to the door. 

They didn't talk about what food to make, and if Asmodeus is honest, cooking isn't one of his talents. So to say, Solomon can't cook either. They eat out whenever Asmodeus stays over, in nice breakfast cafes that makes it feel a lot more romantic than it actually is. 

Solomon has a way of watching Asmodeus eat that makes him want to peel his skin off. He knows too much, and Asmodeus is never sure when he will use that knowledge. Maybe it's just a hall of fame inside his head. Asmodeus loves collecting other people's desires but Solomon is amused by tragedy. And it is a tragedy, Asmodeus assumes, sickness that eats you up from the inside until it reduces you to nothing. 

But that's not important. What's important is that Lucifer deserves breakfast, a good one. And if that means making the only thing Asmodeus can do, he will make the best fried eggs the world has ever seen. He pulls out the box out of the fridge and opens it. Six eggs, that's enough. 

The pan is a little bit hard to get his hands on, it's buried underneath the other pots and lids. Asmodeus can't make too much noise, or else his other roommates will ruin this. This is something for Lucifer and him. No one else. 

The eggs come along nicely. Truly, this is something not even Asmodeus can mess up. He smiles to himself when he flips one of them onto the other side. Because he's not sure how Lucifer likes his eggs, he keeps them with the sunny side up, waiting for further instructions. 

The ringtone of his phone almost makes him drop everything. He curses under his breath, fumbles with the pink iPhone and finally accepts the call. 

“Am I speaking with Asmodeus?” a voice asks. And of course Asmodeus knows who he's talking to immediately. Diavolo's voice on the phone doesn't do his real life charisma justice. It still works well, though, Asmodeus can't help a little smile. 

“The one and only. I assume. It takes a lot to give your child that name. Mr. Diavolo, correct?” 

“Correct.”

He indeed has a nice voice. Just like Lucifer he sounds tired but not equally exhausted. 

“It’s a pleasure but I’m sure you didn’t just call to hear my beautiful voice,” Asmodeus says. Diavolo laughs quietly, causing Asmodeus’ stomach to tickle a little. He understands Lucifer now, at least a little bit. If Diavolo asked him to jump of a cliff, he’d immediately do it. 

“You were listed as Lucifer’s emergency contact. I figured this was the best way to get through to him without calling him in person.”

“I see,” Asmodeus replies although he has no idea what this is about yet. What he can tell is that he’s getting a little too excited about the fact that Lucifer trusts him. Or the fact that he’s always on his phone. 

“I already told him earlier, I’m not sure if he caught it. He has a selective memory when it comes to this. I don’t need him at work today. Barbatos and I will be fine. We made a lot of progress in the meeting, I don’t need him today. Do I make myself clear?”

Asmodeus has always thought, in secret, that Diavolo isn’t abusive. Or overly strict. Lucifer just has a way of wanting to be helpful. He’s too proud to accept that he doesn’t need to do everything. He hates leaving the work to someone else, perhaps out of fear that it won’t be perfect. 

“Do you think you can convince him to stay home today?” Diavolo asks. He doesn’t sound impatient, perhaps a little nervous. 

“Can I be honest with you?” Asmodeus asks because asking, “Can I speak freely, sir?” sounds like a military movie. 

“Anytime, Asmodeus.”

He says the full name. Asmodeus can’t help but shiver. He takes a deep breath and waits for the feeling to wear off before he says, “He looks like he needs a break, Sir.”

“That’s what I keep saying! He can be lucky he has a friend like you, Asmodeus.”

Friend. Asmodeus swallows the bitter feeling and nods, although Diavolo obviously can’t see it. They do some smalltalk after this, nothing of importance. Diavolo laughs a few more times, then he announces that he will finally go to sleep now. Asmodeus does him the favor and hangs up, right before Lucifer walks into the kitchen again. 

His black hair clings onto his face, he smells like the coffee shower gel Asmodeus allowed him to use, for selfish reasons, of course. Smelling that coffee scent on Lucifer makes him dizzy, in the best way possible. 

“That smells great,” Lucifer says. He sounds a little more awake but also more anxious. 

“It’s the butter.”

Lucifer steps behind him and peers over Asmodeus’ shoulder. Asmodeus gets the feeling that he does it on purpose, just to tease him. It takes him all his self control not to turn his head and smell Lucifer’s hair or to perhaps kiss him on the neck. 

“You fry eggs in butter?” Lucifer whispers with curiosity to his voice. 

“I do, it tastes better. How do you like them?”

“They look perfect. Is there anything I can do?”

Perfect. As if anything deserves that label existing next to Lucifer who is actual perfection. Asmodeus shakes his head. 

“I’m all done here, sit down. We have to hurry before the others wake up.”

“I think I heard Levi roaming upstairs.”

“Oh, that’s usually the time he goes to sleep after his gaming session is over. It’s hard to play with people in the US, the time difference…” Asmodeus trails off when he notices that Lucifer isn’t paying attention. The tiredness is back, hitting him with full impact. 

“Lucifer? Sweetheart, sit down, will you?”

“Sweetheart?” Lucifer echoes. “That’s excessive.”

“Get used to it. That’s what you get if you don’t listen to me.”

He doesn’t like how Lucifer’s eyes turn vulnerable for a second but he does like that his threat works. When he brings the eggs to their table, Lucifer stares at the wall, his head supported with his hand. 

“I need coffee,” he mutters to himself. “Or else I am going to fall asleep at work.”

“Ah, about that.”

Asmodeus slides onto the bench again, next to him, and gently pulls his elbow away. No elbows on the table, it’s a principle-thing, really. Touching him is even worse than smelling him. He needs to keep himself together to prevent anything from showing his excitement. 

“About that,” Lucifer repeats. “Wait, are those five eggs on my plate?”  
“I wasn’t sure how many you’d like.”

“Five eggs really isn’t… that’s not healthy.”

Lucifer grabs his fork and, to Asmodeus’ horror, pushes over two eggs until their plates are matching. 

“I don’t--” Asmodeus starts. 

Lucifer looks at him. Like Solomon looks at him. 

Breathing is hard all of sudden. He wants to get out and escape but Lucifer is touching his shoulder again and he smells like coffee shower gel. The eggs smell delicious too, and Asmodeus doesn’t want to ruin this, he really can’t ruin this. 

“I hope you still like them like this” Lucifer starts, then frowns. “Oh. Oh, I see. Let’s just see how far you get, is that alright?”

There it is again. A lot from Lucifer who usually never asks for permission to do what he wants. Asmodeus nods. 

Lucifer doesn’t say anything after this. He eats his eggs, his eyes staring down on his own plate. He does not once look over to Asmodeus. And that somehow makes it easier. Since Lucifer finishes a lot earlier than Asmodeus, he leans on his arm again, his head rested on his shoulder. That’s all Asmodeus feels until his own plate is empty as well. The taste of the egg lingers on his tongue but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of having Lucifer this close to him. It doesn’t suffocate him, it’s rather like a blanket to keep out the monsters under his bed. 

“How much time do I have?” Lucifer asks. 

“Actually…”

He has been pretty confident when calling Diavolo but now he has no clue how to do this. Is he allowed to pull Diavolo into this? Is he supposed to take the blame? 

“Your boss called,” Asmodeus blurts out. “No work for you today. He made himself very clear.”

“And I told him yesterday- today, actually, that I’d be very happy if I could help him out today,” Lucifer replies coldly. And this stings, even though Lucifer is not mad at Asmodeus. 

“He specifically said that he did not want you.”

“... Is that so?”

Now there’s a hint of anger in Lucifer’s voice. His wrath is known to be a tornado to swipe over you and leave you in a lot of pain. The sensation on his shoulder has disappeared, Lucifer moved further along the bench, a couple of centimeters parting them now. 

“He doesn’t want you to come,” Asmodeus corrects himself. 

“I figured you meant that,” Lucifer mutters. “I can’t believe this.”

Asmodeus takes a deep breath and looks away. He’s being pushed away, he can feel it. But he’s used to this. If Lucifer wants to get rid of him, he needs to try a little harder. 

“Your honor seems to be very important to you. And Diavolo’s honor as well.”

“Diavolo’s honor is far more important,” Lucifer immediately snaps. 

That may be a red flag but Asmodeus pushes that thought away for a moment to get his point across. 

“Right, Diavolo’s honor. Would it do that honor any good if you passed out at work? Or would this be the most embarrassing thing you could possibly imagine? Right after me walking in on you in the bathroom, of course.”

“Stop it,” Lucifer hisses, his voice angry but now insecure as well. He’s gotten even paler, his fingernails are digging into the tabletop. The thought of disappointing Diavolo is killing him. 

Asmodeus scoots closer again. Lucifer doesn’t move away this time but he doesn’t lean into it the touch either. 

“What I’m trying to say is that the best thing you can do for yourself and for him is following his orders. Stay in my room if you like. And tomorrow you come to work, refreshed and relaxed and… I don’t know what to say, really.”

“Then perhaps you should stay silent,” Lucifer says with enough poison to it to make Asmodeus flinch. He forces himself to stay in position, not brave enough to touch Lucifer, and not brave enough to ask either. 

Lucifer exhales heavily, leans his head against the kitchen wall and closes his eyes. 

“But you are right,” he says softly. “Fuck, I’m so tired.”

When Asmodeus gasps, he opens his eyes again and looks over to him, an amused smile on his lips. 

“You said it earlier.”

“I did,” Asmodeus says. 

“Is there any way I can pay you back for this?”

Asmodeus freezes a little. Of course there’s the obvious thing, the thing Lucifer expects his dirty-minded, suggestive roommate to say. Asmodeus wishes he could just say what he wants without it being something dirty. He’s not a taboo. His existence is not a taboo. 

“You don’t have to,” Asmodeus says instead. 

Lucifer looks him in the eyes. The man has brown eyes that seem red sometimes, in the right light. Right now, in a kitchen that slowly grows lighter, they’re bright red. The secrecy of the night escapes them. Asmodeus can’t hold onto it, no matter how much he wants to. 

“I have an idea,” Lucifer says. “But only if I may.”

“Do whatever you want,” Asmodeus breathes.

“I am going to need a little bit more than that.”

Nobody has ever said that. Nobody has ever bothered to check if Asmodeus was ready. 

“Yes!” Asmodeus says, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Lucifer smiles. 

“Good.”

He looks at him for a few more seconds, eyes bright red, then he kisses him. And even though Asmodeus has fantasized about this for something that feels like years, he can’t believe it. He reacts a split seconds too late but he puts in every single bit of his desire into it as he kisses Lucifer back. Lucifer’s hand goes up to his hair, his elbow pushes aside the plates but Asmodeus doesn’t care for it. They could smash the plates for all that he cares. A different version of himself can clean it up, not the version of himself that is finally kissing Lucifer. Perfect Lucifer, always busy, now making out with him in the kitchen. 

Lucifer’s hands go a little lower, until he touches Asmodeus’ shoulders. Asmodeus takes this as an invitation to bury his fingertips deep in Lucifer’s wet hair.  
“Fuck,” Lucifer breathes and leans back to catch his breath. Asmodeus grins. Lucifer leans in to kiss him again. 

“Wait,” Asmodeus says. “This is wonderful and all that but could we move out of the corner before we hit our heads somewhere?”

Lucifer nods, lets go of him and waits until Asmodeus climbs out of the corner. Once they’re both standing in the middle of the kitchen, Asmodeus looks up to him. Despite having made the first move, Lucifer seems unsure of what to do next. Which is good because Asmodeus does. 

“I want you to push me against that kitchen counter and kiss me until I forget my own name,” he whispers. 

Something in Lucifer’s tired eyes lits up, he grins and tilts his head. 

“Oh, you want me to do that?”

“Yes. I do.”

He touches Asmodeus’ waist, carefully, like he’s afraid to break him. His other hand grabs Asmodeus’ hand. For a few minutes, it’s silent, more light creeping into the kitchen. Then, Lucifer pushes him back until his back hits the counter. 

“Oh my--” Asmodeus starts but it ends in a squeal when Lucifer lifts him onto the counter and continues kissing him. 

“Is that alright?” Lucifer asks quietly, whenever he touches a new part of Asmodeus. 

And Asmodeus whispers, “Yes” every time. Lucifer asks for explicit consent before he unbuttons Asmodeus’ shirt and places his cold fingers on his skin. He kisses Asmodeus’ neck, then, without warning, sucks on his skin. 

“Lucifer,” Asmodeus hears himself saying, very close to losing it. Not here, not now. Not with his pants on. 

“That’s my name, yes,” Lucifer whispers. He’s out of breath too, not as much as Asmodeus is. Whenever people claim he’s a sadist, this isn’t what Asmodeus thought they meant. 

“Did you forget yours yet?” Lucifer teases him. Asmodeus squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath so he doesn’t scream. 

He’s not sure what Lucifer’s next move is, he doesn’t get to do it. A voice, loud and with a green touch to it, yells, “Oh, so when you two do it on the counter it’s okay, but my goddamn _cat_ can’t sit on it?”

Lucifer lets out a small laugh that reveals how tired he really is. He turns his head to look Satan right in the eye, smiles and says, “Yes. Exactly.”

  
  
  



End file.
